If I had to sum up Alexa and Damien’s wedding in one sentence, it’d be this: some people collect friends, while others collect family. They somehow managed to do both.
I should’ve known when I saw the wedding party.
Twelve groomsmen.
Normally that’s a sign someone couldn’t make cuts. By the end of the speeches, it made perfect sense. Damien is apparently the guy who remembers everyone’s birthday because it’s in his calendar, keeps twenty-plus friends together years after college, and somehow makes everyone feel like they’ve been part of the group forever.
The stories were great, too. There was burnt chicken and plain spaghetti. No sauce. Ever. There was the time he officially asked Alexa to be his girlfriend by handing her a slang dictionary and telling her to turn to the page that read, “Will you be my boo?” Romance isn’t dead. It’s just deeply weird.
Then there was the story about sprinting home from Hoboken after lying to a very skeptical Polish mother about being “just around the corner.” I don’t even remember who told it. I just remember thinking every immigrant kid in the room immediately understood the assignment.
Alexa’s stories all landed somewhere different.
Everyone talked about how thoughtful she is, but Damien’s sister Nicole gave the example that mattered. Long before Alexa officially joined the family, she already acted like she had. When Nicole’s father became sick, Alexa showed up. Doctor’s appointments. Chemo. Saturday walks. Karaoke nights. She didn’t wait for a wedding to become family.
Looking back, that’s what I remember most from their day at Maritime Parc.
The skyline was beautiful. Their dog somehow attended every major event on the schedule. The dance floor eventually reached the point where Damien was being carried horizontally by his friends.
But none of that was really the story.
The story was that by the end of the night, it was impossible to tell where Alexa’s family ended, Damien’s family began, and their friends fit somewhere in the middle.
The wedding wasn’t what created that feeling.
It simply gave everyone else the chance to see it.
